Clean

Just Ahead

parched for worthy words
with weary eyes I see an oasis ahead
beach chair 
extending along its banks
icy sweat 
falling from each side of a tall glass of poetic lemonade
cubes dancing within
verbs
adjectives
waiting to be devoured
to relieve the arid pen I hold
as man was formed from the dust
so will be the next poem arise
for I have found you
I have found your teachings
once again, I exist
to write
to live

to be mentored
once again 

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

lay your weary head down
this night as always
always to Him
your soul is His to keep
snuggled deep inside the brown leather purse by your side
to be summoned 
given to the ushers passing by in the aisle
stopping at each pew
dressed in uniformed white
and when it was time
your soul would be placed on the collection plate
adding to others
presented at the alter
and given back to Him

your lamp light
always filled with fresh oil 
burning brightly each night on the front porch
just in case He came to call during off hours
and off you went to sleep
but this night
your soul heard the doorbell ring
an usher dressed in uniformed white
finally reached your pew
and without hesitation
you reached
and retrieved your soul from the brown leather purse
sitting by your side
and gently placed it ins...

In God I Trust

Approaching your burning bush
Measured distance to not be singed by its flames
In the presence of your most excellent holiness
I wished for
Prayed for
A moment of your day
A portion of your lunch hour
Or coffee break
If God ever required a touch of caffeine in between creating the universe
Light and day
Heavens and earth
You can get the detailed listing in Genesis
Just like he told me

No name plate on his office door at home
Never referred to him as
I am that I am
But simply 
Daddy
In whom I did trust
Who was the light ruling over my darkness
My provider
Never knowing how he provided my daily manna
But it was always there each night at 6
As we sat around the dinner table

In God I trust
Because he did
And demanded that I would also
Trust and obey
For there is no other way
...

Grace 'N Mercy

I wasn't going to say it
ain't proud that the day and time has come to fruition
spending sprees and credit purchases
yesterday
but the bill came in the mail
today
and collections department is demanding immediate payment

I ain't the one to rub it in your face
but I seen this coming from way back when
you ignored the signs and wonders 
the laying on of hands didn't work
the holy ghost called you several times
but your heart was in non vibrate 
silent mode 

I ain't gonna bask in the glow of
..there
almost said it
and I promised I wouldn't point my finger
dance in delight around your maypole
'cause mine is tied right next to yours
and I heeded the warnings

I built my house with bricks and stone
looking out at the neighborhood 
homes and lives constructed of sticks and ...

With Lust

lust
seduced me into a moment of unfaithfulness
drawing in my wandering gaze
feeling your fingers reach through the dimly lit doorway
running sinfully through my hair
filling my mind with a myriad of thoughts
social
historical
carnal 
poetic thoughts
a street vendor on the corner
bought things I never intended to buy today
never needed or wanted
door left ajar
low light seen on the night stand
creeping along the back hallway 
trying not to get caught red handed
satisfy my moment of gratification
couldn't help myself
transfixed
memorized 
lust
when I saw the first three lines of your poem
fever pitched curiosity 
hating the term
"nosey"
but it is what it is
and that's alright
the first three lines of your poem
slowly pushing the door ajar
with lustfu...

Standing In The Shadows Of Love

the Cakewalk to the Charleston
with revealing rag time dresses and uncovered knees
much more interesting than
the Can Can dances from Paris days of gay
gone yesterday
but there it didn't stop 
next on the jukebox 
the Jitterbug and the Lindy Hop

and it's still cool to look back on
You Tube videos and watch how great grandma
once danced at her high school hop and did the Stroll
now 
head-nodding in wheel chairs
taking its final toll
and 
family backyard barbeques 
watching daddy and mommy do the boogaloo
and whatever dances I can't remember the name
some years later
me and my peoples every Saturday
watching Soul Train to up our game

but I don't dance no more
the times ain't as happy and carefree
carefree as long as needle on the turntable stayed sharp and ready
I stay at my table in the co...

She Once Was

she was once worthy
to keep your family fed
as your helpless wife would turn her head
while you came to her quarters each night and warmed her worthy bed
she was once worthy
to always be at your beckoning call
wherever you would go
and begat countless more hands for your plantation fields
brown skinned
blue-eyed
brown hair 
Mullato

and she was once worthy
to share the wedding vow
becoming common property like horse and cow
a step above the slave daily working the plantation plow
she once was worthy
but not worthy enough for equal conversation and thought
only to bear your children when each season turns to spring
a gift to you from Antebellum parents
once a belle of young society
now
a caged bird that can no longer sing

both were once worthy
but never the way they thought
each a sale at different ...

Heaven Costs Five Dollars

had a hard time believing back then that all it took for me to get to heaven
was to follow the ABC's of faith
and the conductor would punch my ticket on that train to glory
they told me in quant Sunday School corners and the weeping and wailing moments of alter calls
...admit 
...believe
...confess

I also saw it in pamphlets passed out by street missionaries  
it confused me
because back then 
all I thought it cost to go to heaven was
five dollars
the price of a movie ticket to the Fabian with any girl I had a crush on
who would simply say

yes

and ask what time the movie starts
meeting at Broadway Pizza for a slice or two 
and I'm thinking 
not of the ABC's of faith as the price to go to heaven
but the five dollars I would earn by dutifully raking the leaves 
taking out the trash without prompting
...

Be Queen

what I wish for you is too much to pen
and if my words could touch you in your corner of the universe
I want these words to cover your body with kisses
to smother you just long enough to take your breath away
to have you dance joyous
naked and unashamed in the Caribbean windstorms
and sway in the breeze like drunken palm trees
 
when thoughts of love for you are not butterflies
but mammoth pterodactyl
in fierce attack mode from prehistoric times
may my words caress you
until you climax all over this poetic page
 
may the bee that you are
spit everlasting poetic pollination
germinating into a thousand love poems for all of us to see
to feel
to touch
to be
 
may the art of love
the call of love
beckoning you to its holy throne
once unpleasant
now a natural high that has no fix
no antidote...

At Fifteen

it was in this year

clouds of innocence were slowly removed from my 
freshly minted fifteen year old eyes
windshield wipers in the rain on low level
clearly 
I began to see and experience the wonders
the frustrations
the cruelty
the humanity
and the reality of this world
 
it was in this year
I discovered that words written and spoken could be steamed
fried
prepared to order
and sometimes microwaved
 
I remember always digesting them
after it being served thoroughly minced and diced
sprinkled with a little brown sugar
washed down with a cold soda
 
it was in this year
I began to prepare and serve words for others to digest
interesting to note that words taste differently to each tongue
onion flavored
bitter
salty
too sweet
needing more flour
or f...